Charlie's Weakness
by FoxBane1191
Summary: After three years in Azkaban Draco is a very different person but unfortunately Fate isn't done with him. A mishap with an old spell turns his life inside out and Draco is left scrambling with no idea what to do. Fortunately Fate also sent Charlie into Draco's life, and if there's one thing Charlie knows it's how to deal with dragons.
1. Whiskey, Freckles and a Little Magic

**A/N: **I won't particularly be paying attention to the book or the ages of some of the characters in this story. This will be placed after Harry won so it really doesn't apply in this story but needless to say this isn't epilogue compliant. Draco will be 18-20 and Charlie will be 26-28 throughout the time period of the story. So yeah. There will be only a tiny bit of Harry bashing in this. It will probably take a little bit of time between each update so be PATIENT. I work for a living and unless I spent the rest of my day writing and not doing my chores it will take a little bit.

**Pairing:** Charlie/Draco so definitely slash.

**Summary:** After three years in Azkaban Draco is a very different person but unfortunately Fate isn't done with him. A mishap with an old spell turns his life inside out and Draco is left scrambling with no idea what to do. Fortunately Fate also sent Charlie into Draco's life, and if there's one thing Charlie knows it's how to deal with dragons.

**Chapter One: Whiskey, Freckles and A Little Magic**

"First Of The Death Eater Scum Released Into Society." Draco read the words aloud, his not blue but not gray eyes focused on the newspaper spread out over the table. Below the ugly words a large photo took up most of the front page.

Draco dragged his eyes to the moving picture, face blank and eyes narrowed thoughtfully. His own face stared back, the photo only taken a few days ago. They'd caught him just as he stepped from the dark prison, expression unguarded and looking oddly vulnerable. The photo was black and white but one could clearly see the grayish tone to his once pale cream skin. He'd lost at least twenty pounds, his skin stretched tight, cheekbones sharp and eyes hollow. Robes of the highest quality hung loosely around his frame, making him look even more fragile than he already did. As Draco stared at the photo a sick hollow feeling came to his stomach. He hadn't thought he could possible look as horrifying as he felt but the man staring back at him looked near deaths door.

With a weak sigh Draco pushed the paper away, sending it sliding across the slick mahogany table, nearly falling off the other end. Picking up the glass at his elbow, he turned his eyes to the swirling amber whiskey turning in the crystal. He hadn't had whiskey in years, not since at least a year before he'd been imprisoned, but after seeing the title of the Prophet he'd felt very much like having a glass. He couldn't imagine how humiliated and indignant he would have been before he was imprisoned but now he only felt a searing shame in his chest. He deserved this after all, he was guilty and he knew this was the price he was going to have to pay for it. He supposed people laughing at the once proud Draco Malfoy was a small price to pay for what he'd done.

Leaning back in his cushioned chair Draco winced as his body protested, muscles sore and aching. He'd been more active today than he'd been the entire three years he'd spent in Azkaban, and his every muscle was telling him precisely how much he'd overdone it. Being locked in a cell that was barely six feet by four feet hadn't given him any incentive to be active and he was definitely going to pay for it as his body readjusted to everyday life. Hell, even the walk to the other end of the manor wore him out now, and he distinctly remembered being able to run the distance before without being out of breath at all. Yes, he would definitely have to do some readjusting. Although he supposed he would never be as healthy as he'd been before, his stint in Azkaban would always affect him, whether it was physically or mentally.

Shifting again in the overly stuffed armchair he turned his eyes to the ceiling, thoughts spinning slowly. The one thing above everything else he was grateful for was that his mother had never been sent to that filthy prison. She'd been given a very strict year long probation, and as long as she followed the rules to the letter she would never see the inside of Azkaban. Her punishment had been so light partly because of her actions concerning Harry's supposed death and also largely because of the last minute deal Draco himself had struck with the Wizengamot. He'd agreed to give a detailed account of every single misdeed he'd done during the war and then accept whatever punishment they thought fit to give him in exchange for his mothers partial release. It had been a fair price to pay in his mind and he wouldn't have done it any other way. He'd been shocked and beyond relieved when they'd only given him three years in that vile place. His mother still had no idea what he'd done to secure her freedom and he hoped she never would.

Raising his glass to his lips the blonde boy finally took a small sip of the amber fluid. The liquid burned horribly as it went down, hitting his stomach hard, more than just a little potent. It had been his fathers favorite, Draco remembered. He had seen the man get piss drunk on the stuff more than once. Now the dozens of bottles still sitting in the wine cellar would probably be wasted. Draco himself didn't particularly like alcohol and couldn't see himself drinking it very often. But he supposed it was good for taking one's mind off of other things. His blue eyes flickered over to the newspaper before looking back up at the ceiling.

It was hard for Draco to believe that he was only eighteen, would be nineteen here soon. He felt so much older than that, so much older. His body was sore and aching and his mind felt much the same. Like an old man he'd seen in the park once, back bent from all his years in this world, body thin and wrinkled from the ravages of time, eyes hollow and dead like he already had one foot on the other side. Draco imagined himself feeling much the way that man must have felt. Drained of all happiness and any desire to ever look for happiness again. It was a vaguely depressing comparison and he very much hoped the feeling would go away soon.

Taking another sip of the potent amber fluid Draco grimaced as the taste brought him back from his depressing thoughts. The glass was empty now, having been filled and emptied he wasn't sure how many times. He'd vaguely lost count at three glasses, his body unused to the ravages of alcohol. The large bottle that sat on the table was nearly drained, only a thin layer at the bottom. He knew that was probably a sign to stop drinking, as much as he liked the fogged relaxation he was swimming in currently he knew that if his mother caught him this way she would worry. And he didn't want her to worry. She worried about him enough as it was, even though he didn't really deserve her worry she still did it anyway.

Setting the fragile crystal glass on the table with a rattling clink Draco hauled himself to his feet, body swaying as his vision spun and whirled around him. Blinking rapidly to clear his blurred sight Draco wiped a hand unsteadily through his hair. He was glad he'd decided to drink in his private rooms because he doubted he would have been able to make it to his bed if it wasn't so close. Draco wasn't unfamiliar with being this drunk and he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold off sleep much longer. Staggering on bare feet he crossed the dark room, his path winding slowly back and forth towards his bed.

It took him seconds to reach the bed and the blonde boy wasted no time in flopping himself down on the royal purple silk covers. It was an act Lucius would have sneered at and if the blonde wasn't so absolutely wasted he probably wouldn't have done it at all. But right now he was drunk and he simply didn't care what Lucius Malfoy would have considered proper. Besides he'd stopped caring what the bastard thought years ago, well before the war ended and he'd been sentenced to Azkaban. It wasn't long before consciousness abandoned him, mind slipping into the inky blackness, the alcohol speeding the process along.

But even as exhausted and drunk as he was, his sleeping mind was still very much vulnerable to the shadows. Soon the nightmares crept in like they did every night, sending his pulse pounding and his muscles twitching. Slate eyes moved rapidly beneath his lids, mind watching the tall dark shadows dancing wickedly around him, dread and terror making him shiver. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wasn't in Azkaban any more but he wasn't convinced, instead frantically scanning his tiny dark cell for threats. Even as terrified as he was Draco made not a sound, body laying stiff and still on the bed. He'd learned the hard way that it was best not to make any noise in the darkness of Azkaban.

0_0

Draco rubbed absently at his temple, trying to rub away the hangover ache as he sorted through his fathers desk. He wasn't sure why he'd felt like going through the large mahogany monster right now. He'd had a dream, he always dreamed, but in this one he'd seen his father, near the end, and he wanted to do something to connect himself with the man. Sorting through his fathers things needed to be done, his mother hadn't been up to it, even three years after Lucius' disappearance, so it would eventually fall to Draco to complete the task anyway. So, body weak and head pounding he opened the first drawer.

The first drawer was filled with little things. Quills, the finest eagle feather quills money could buy. Ink, several different colors, all of them stamped with an elite ink makers seal. A pile of official looking letter paper, the back stamped with the Malfoy family crest, the mark subtle and barely there. That would be the paper Lucius used for ministry business. Another pile of paper sat under that one, pristine white with not a single mark or blemish. Draco shivered when he saw the innocent looking paper, knowing this would be the paper Lucius used for Death Eater business.

The second drawer held files on the Malfoy finances. Draco knew the Malfoy family had a great deal of money, but he hadn't realized they had quite this much money. The ministry had confiscated several homes in England but that had barely scratched the surface. As he looked through a file of investments he raised a blonde brow. It seemed that not only did he now own more than a dozen different houses around the world but he owned quite a few shares from dozens of different wizarding companies. There were dozens of business names listed, several big names that surprised him, some small ones he didn't know and some he did. He now owned bits and pieces of the wizarding world all over the world. With quite a bit of interest, he saw with a frown. As he slid the last folder back into its slot he decided he was going to lower the payments and the interest rates on more than a few of the investments. The rates Lucius had had them paying was practically robbery.

The third and last drawer on the right side was locked. Locked to everyone that is but a Malfoy. Draco only slid his thumb across the lock, feeling the prick of pain in the finger as the spell tested his blood. He knew that if anyone else had tried it they would have had a very nasty surprise. When the spell flashed green he pulled the drawer open with a grunt, feeling the tracks stick and slide as though rusty. As though the drawer hadn't been opened in a very long time.

At first he didn't see much of anything in the small drawer. There were several more files, only a few, pertaining to some properties Draco knew had been used for Death Eater business. Lucius wouldn't have wanted anyone to know he owned them, if the ministry had gotten a hold of these then Lucius wouldn't have had a leg to stand on. Draco set them aside, wanting to sell them at the first opportunity. He wanted no part of his fathers tainted past, he'd already paid more than enough for Lucius while his father disappeared.

The only other item in the drawer was a ring. He stared down at it for a moment, feeling a shiver travel down his spine as the dull silver seemed to crawl and writhe without actually moving. Draco was more than familiar with dark objects, he'd been around them since he was born, and he knew immediately that this ring was without a doubt a dark object. Gathering his wand close he cast several spells down at the ring, checking for any curses or other dangerous affects. He knew from personal experience that dark objects were incredibly dangerous and not to be messed with lightly. When his spells came away with nothing his frown grew. His father was incredibly intelligent and Draco somehow doubted that the man would have a dark ring sitting around in a locked drawer without a very good reason.

After a silent debate Draco reached down and picked up the ring, feeling a full body shudder course through him when his skin touched the freezing metal. He could swear the ring seemed to move against his fingers, a little tingle of magic shooting up his fingers but it remained still and useless under his watchful eyes. With his frown still in place he raised the ring up, turning it cautiously between his long fingers as he studied it. A large sapphire glinted in the light, round and set deeply into the silver, two serpents on either side, mouths clamped around the stone. If not for its deathly aura the ring would have been beautiful but in this case Draco would only call it chilling.

With a near silent sigh Draco dropped the ring back into the drawer with a clank, the files following right behind. Sliding the drawer closed, locking spell replacing itself automatically, he decided he was done with his fathers study. He'd never been allowed in here while Lucius was in residence and there really wasn't anything he wanted to keep, certainly not anything he would miss.

"Molli." Draco called, voice still hoarse and rusty from his stay in Azkaban. Within seconds a house elf popped into place in front of his fathers desk, large eyes focused on him across the large expanse of wood and big ears tilted back. Draco thought she looked terrified.

"Yes, what can Molli be doings for Master Draco?" She asked, her voice high and squeaky. Her entire small body was trembling wildly.

Draco sighed again as he got to his feet, not blaming her in the least for being frightened. He hadn't been so nice to house elves before his stay in Azkaban. Eyes dark and a little sad he drifted silently around the desk. "I'd like this room completely cleaned out, Molli." He paused, glancing around the luxurious study. It really was a beautiful room. "I want everything gone. I don't care what you do with it. Only the estate files need to be kept."

"Yes, Master Draco, Molli be doing this for him right away." She squeaked, bowing deeply as he strolled slowly past her.

Draco made it to the door before he stopped, turning back to look at the house elf with a thoughtful expression. He'd had Molli since he was a baby, she'd been his personal care taker since before he could remember. She'd deserved better than him and the way he'd treated her. "Actually, why don't you redecorate the room as well, Molli?" He smiled slightly at her startled expression, the motion feeling rusty. "You should know what I like better than anyone so I trust you to decorate it to my tastes."

"But-" She started to protest, tears of happiness coming to her large brown eyes. It was a great compliment to be trusted with such a monumental task. "Molli be doing the bestest she can for Master Draco, sir." She bowed again, large nose nearly touching the polished wood floor.

Draco only hummed absently in response, mind already on other things as he left the study behind. He had so many things he wanted to do now that he was out of that filthy prison. The first on his long list was sitting out in the sun without a protection charm. No one knew but as fair as he was he freckled quite heavily in the sunshine, had ever since he was a baby. Lucius had always frowned upon that fact, saying it was unsophisticated to be so marked, said it was far too common. So Draco had _always_ used a protection charm, not wanting to disappoint his father. But now he wanted to sit out in the sun and actually feel the warmth on his skin. So, he set out to find a comfortable spot to lounge about outside.

0_0

Draco felt completely boneless, laid spread eagle across the lush grass in the manicured back yard. The sun was beating down on him heavily, warming every inch of his exposed skin. He'd long ago pulled off his shirt, transfiguring it into a blue blanket to lay on. He'd been out here for several hours, simply laying and absorbing the hot rays, feeling warm for the first time in over three years. It was an amazing feeling, to just lay and not do a thing, completely unworried about the next dementor visit or if the guards were going to feed him that day. He didn't have to watch every shadow, didn't have to be on guard every second of the day. Because he was on Malfoy land now, this was his domain, and he was in control here. The thought made him relax even further into the soft blue blanket.

An odd little tune came to mind and Draco began to hum under his breath, his heart beating slow and steady in his slender chest. He loved to sing, but it was another one of those things his father had disapproved of. Said no straight male would be caught singing, and it certainly hadn't helped that Draco's singing voice was high and sweet. It hadn't taken Lucius very long to forbid Draco to sing. But no matter what his father said it hadn't taken his enjoyment from singing. Sure, he wasn't the best, he wasn't going to be famous for it, but he was good enough and he enjoyed it.

This was nice, he thought vaguely. He couldn't remember the last time he'd simply sat and enjoyed the world. Certainly not for years. He'd been too busy with things he thought his father would approve of. Draco had been trying to earn his fathers pride for years and he'd willingly cast aside his interests for Lucius'. Now he regretted that decision. Now he didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go or how to go about it. Didn't know what he wanted. But he knew his father wouldn't have approved and now, finally, it didn't matter to him. He didn't care what his father would say, didn't care if his father would be furious. Now he realized that this was his life and he was going to live it for himself.

Just as the thought crossed his mind a shadow crossed his closed eyes and he tensed, shoulders tightening and eyes flying open. Only to see his mother calmly seating herself on a summoned chair several feet away, her face completely expressionless. Draco slowly relaxed again, feeling stupid and ashamed. All over again he felt old and worn, his mind and body damaged by his time in Azkaban.

"You know you're going to become freckled in this sun, Draco." Narcissa Malfoy told her son primly, her protection charm already firmly in place. Her words were disapproving but her bright blue eyes were calm when she glanced over at him.

"I know, mother." Draco murmured, settling himself back against the blanket, slate gray eyes looking up at the sky. His heart was slowing down now that no threat was present, his body a little weak from the sudden adrenaline surge.

Narcissa sighed as though dealing with a particularly stubborn stain on her pristine robes, the sound familiar and nearly making Draco flinch. He'd grown up around that sound and he _hated_ it. "Darling, you know pure blood families shouldn't be so common as to have freckles, its shameful." She said, the words sounding as though they'd come straight from her husbands mouth and Draco knew they probably had. So he tried not to blame her.

"So I've heard." He said with no sarcasm, glancing over to meet her sharp eyes before looking back up at the sky. Vividly white fluffy clouds drifted overhead, lazy and seemingly unconcerned by the world around them. "But I simply don't care anymore."

"Draco, dear, I know you're time in that...place was difficult." She hesitated uncharacteristically when Draco turned his eyes towards her, gray blue meeting baby blue. Her expression was slightly concerned. "But I'd just like you to know that I'll be here if you'd like to talk about it."

Draco stared up at his mother, his lips stretched into a wane but nonetheless warm smile. Although Narcissa didn't often show her love physically Draco had never had any doubt that she loved him. Which was why he'd shown no hesitation to bargain with the ministry for his mothers freedom. She was everything to him, the only family he had, the only true friend he had. She was all Draco Malfoy had left that he cared about. She was worth any sacrifice he had to make. So despite feeling old and worn out he made himself smile up at her, reaching out to touch a hand lightly to her knee before letting the limb rest back at his side.

"I know, mother." He told her, glad to see her face relax. "I'm just..." He paused, searching for the right word to describe his feelings, expression a little lost as his smile faded.

Narcissa nodded, face smoothing out, worry fading from her eyes. "I understand you need time Draco, I just want you to know I'll be here when you're ready." With that she seemed to be done, clearing her throat lightly as she stood, levitating the chair with an absent flick of her wand. "Now, do be in before dinner, and try not to get to many of the dreaded Black freckles." Amusement was in her eyes as she turned to go, referring to Lucius' rants about the freckles he insisted must come from the Black side of the family.

Draco rolled his eyes as his mother left, remembering his father's hour long rants when he was a child about the 'horrid' freckles and where they must come from. Never mind that not a single Black up the line had freckles. Getting comfortable in the grass Draco prepared himself for a full day of sun bathing, freckles be damned.


	2. Blood, Murder and a Little Indignation

**Chapter 2: Blood, Murder and a Little Indignation**

Draco was still laying languidly across the grass when the first cramp suddenly hit him. The ache was slight but noticeable, centered right over his heart, almost as though someone had pinched him. Frowning absently Draco rubbed his skin, having shed his pristine white button up hours ago. His thoughts didn't particularly revolve around anything, just floated randomly.

The sky was a crisp almost eye watering blue, pale white clouds only drifting across the vast expanse occasionally. The sky was absolutely perfect. In fact he didn't think he'd ever seen such a perfect sky. Staring up at the startling blue he wondered if he should go for a ride on his broom. He hadn't been in such a long time, well before he'd been in Azkaban, and he missed the sensation. He missed the care free feeling that came with the wind whipping through his hair and past his body. He missed the sucking, gravity defying sensation of twisting and turning through the air, barely holding on to his broom. He missed the exhilaration. He missed the freedom.

As a sparrow flew quickly past his thoughts changed. Draco thought it must be absolutely wonderful, being able to fly without any assistance. Being able to simply flex one self and _soar_. Being able to be almost one with the sky. It had to be absolutely amazing. Idly, he wished it were possible.

The second cramp was worse, the muscles across his chest clenching painfully, making him gasp in surprise and clutch at his chest. Pain radiated from the area for a long moment and he thought for a dizzying second that his skin had actually moved. The pain only lasted a few seconds, no more than ten before fading. Gasping Draco sat up, wondering what the hell was going on. He hadn't ever felt anything like it before and had absolutely no idea where it came from.

He didn't even have the time to gain his feet before the pain was on him again, this time much worse. Giving a short sharp moan, Draco fell back against the grass, writhing in pain. This time he could actually feel his skin moving and shifting, each shift ripping and tearing at his muscles and bones. Eyes focused on his bare chest despite the sharp pain Draco wanted to gasp in horror as his skin began to ripple and waver, the color shifting to an almost pearly gray. Unable to watch through the pain, Draco let his head fall back, clenching his fists and trying desperately not to scream. He'd had worse, he told himself, but his terror didn't lesson with the reassurance.

Then it was gone again. Panting in shock and remembered pain Draco lay perfectly still for a long heart throbbing moment. It took him at least fifteen seconds to move again. Raising his head wearily, Draco looked down at his chest, only his sudden exhaustion keeping him from gasping in shock. From his collar bone nearly to his waist he was _changed_. His skin was no longer a pale pink, instead it shone with an almost iridescent sheen, but that wasn't what disturbed him most. Large scales, almost the size of a muggle quarter, covered his newly gray skin. Blood coated the skin around the newly grown scales and Draco's fingers trembled as he raised a hand to touch them. Pressing on one scale Draco flinched when he felt the touch, not like he would have on his skin but he'd certainly felt it. In fact they seemed even more sensitive than his skin. The area around the new scales was sore and extremely tender, blood coating his fingers as he prodded at the wounds. It looked as though the scales had simply _ripped_ through his skin, growing quickly and painfully.

Draco didn't have any more time to contemplate _how_ such a thing had happened. The next wave of pain was upon him just as suddenly as the last three times. Only this was unbelievably even worse. Clenching his teeth Draco whimpered as the agony ripped through him again, unable to stop the pathetic noises from passing through his lips. His entire body convulsed, his magic whipping and twisting beneath his skin. He could feel his skin begin the gruesome transfiguration again, muscles and tissue caving and ripping and tearing and changing. Nothing he'd ever experienced had ever been as painful as this, not even the crucios he'd suffered under. This time the pain didn't stop, only seemed to go on and on and on.

Vaguely Draco realized several things. He realizing he was screaming bloody murder, his throat and lungs fairly burned with the noise. He couldn't breathe with the noise. But he couldn't stop. He realized he was writhing spasmodically against the grass, muscles twitching and burning uncontrollably. There was blood everywhere, he could absently taste it in his mouth as he screamed, he could see it as his eyes bled, he could feel it dripping as his skin broke and ripped like paper. He could hear his entire body crackling and tearing, wet disgusting noises he knew he'd never forget if he survived this. The clothes he'd been wearing were long gone, pants torn, shirt earlier discarded, even his belt destroyed as his body contorted and shook. The whole world seemed to be shifting, colors blurring and swirling, noises long and distinctive, smells strong and assaulting.

But all of that took a backseat to the strong, burning, tearing, devastating rippling pain consuming his entire being. It was like an entire entity of it's own, devouring Draco whole and leaving nothing behind as it burned his mind clean. He didn't know who he was, didn't know where he was, didn't know anything but the terrible sensation. It lasted a long long time, long enough that Draco actually relaxed into the pain, his changed body laying limp and completely unresisting on the blessedly cool grass. But the grass was only temporary comfort, the pain soon swallowing even that.

Overwhelmed and panting with horrifying shock it took Draco a long dazed incoherent time to realize that the pain had stopped. Taking in huge gulping breaths through an entirely foreign mouth, Draco simply lay there, lungs burning from lack of oxygen. His body was beginning to shudder violently, muscles twitching and flinching. Exhaustion clouded his mind, making it almost impossible to think. He remembered his name now. Draco. Draco. Draco. He thought to himself.

Finally coming back to himself, even only slightly. Open his eyes Draco blinked. If he hadn't already known something was spectacularly wrong he would have known as soon as he opened his eyes. His vision was odd and shifting, colors blurring and blending but never so sharp and clear in his life. Then he blinked and the world was nearly blinded by the light. Ow. Blinking rapidly, Draco nearly sighed when the shifting blurring colors were back.

When he tried to push himself up off his belly, Draco found himself with an extremely unique issue. Staring down at _himself_, Draco wasn't sure what to feel, horrified or amazed. Not only had the iridescent scales spread to cover his entire body but he found himself in possession of four distinctly dragonesque limps. Sitting back on his clawed, scaled, dangerous looking back legs Draco tried to examine his new body. His neck was longer now, long enough that he could crane it back and look over his new body.

Somehow Draco Malfoy had the body of a dragon. A type of dragon he'd certainly never seen before. This body was smallish, at least as far as dragons went, perhaps ten feet from the tip of his tail to his nose. His wings were long and sleek, built more for agility then anything, they spread perhaps ten feet wide. As he spread them his mind tumbled over itself at the sensation. It was almost as though he was simply spreading his arms. His tail was long and slender with an almost stiletto sharp barb at the end that made it look like an arrowhead. His entire body was sleek, lean and absolutely streamlined. His newly grown scales were an almost dull looking gray, perhaps white under the coating of dried blood still clinging to them.

Mentally raising his brows Draco wondered whether he should be terrified or amazed or baffled or maybe even puzzled. He wasn't sure. He felt almost numb in the face of what had just happened. He'd literally just grown into a dragon. A _dragon_. And he had absolutely no idea how it had happened, why it had happened or if he could change back. All he knew was that he felt melted and dazed and exhausted and almost blind with shock.

In short, Draco Malfoy had no idea what to do and he certainly didn't expect what Narcissa Malfoy _would_ do.

/00/00/00/

Narcissa heard the screams, then the loud deafening roars. But she'd been too far away to get there in time. She'd been clear across the manor, sifting through old family photos. She'd been unable to apparate, the wards to prevent such were still strongly in place. So she'd run, god she didn't think she'd ever run quite so fast in her entire life. But even as she rushed out the back door onto the back yard and stumbled to a halt, staring, she knew it was too late.

Staring in blind, desperate dumb bewilderment Narcissa wondered what the bloody hell a _dragon_ was doing in her back yard. Dull blue eyes dropped to the ground, spotting the mangled pair of black trousers on the ground at the dragon's feet. The very pair her son had been wearing. The reptile was looking at her now with large violet pupil less eyes but she paid no attention to that. Blood covered the beasts muzzle, caking across the gray scales and coating the beasts stomach. Not a bit of her Draco was left. The beast had _eaten_ him...

Dazed eyes suddenly became fierce with uncomprehending fury and Narcissa lifted her wand with an uncharacteristic snarl on her lips. "You'll wish you'd never done that." She told the dumb creature as she began to cast her spells.

/00/00/00

Charlie was on vacation, one of the very very few times he'd allowed himself to be drawn away from the reserve. So, he found himself surrounded with his family in the Burrow. His mum and dad, both laughing over by the table, deep in conversation with Ron and Hermione. Bill, Fluer and their new daughter. George and the pregnant Angelina. Percy, Audrey and their own young daughter. Harry and Ginny with Harry's godson Teddy. The entire house was full of noise and laughter, the children running and giggling with one another, the adults playfully teasing one another. It was the first time in a long time he'd seen everyone so incredibly happy and he couldn't have felt more apart from everyone if he'd tried.

"So when is our Charlie going to get hitched?" Ginny asked gently from his elbow, nearly startling him he'd been so distracted. Her eyes were gentle and teasing on his. Even though he and Ron shared the most resemblance, both being more broad shouldered and stockier than the others, he'd always had a special spot for Ginny. It was the only reason he didn't tell her to bugger off.

"You know I don't plan on getting married." Charlie told her with a faint smile. Despite the smile there was a slight bitterness in his eyes.

"Charlie, you know you shouldn't compare every women to Denise."Ginny scolded him gently, laying a hand on her brothers arm.

"Ginny." Charlie growled, voice hard and nearly monotone. He wasn't going to speak about Denise no matter what Ginny seemed to think.

"What?!" His sister protested sharply, temper flaring. "I know that's why you don't want to get with anybody else. You may have fooled mom and the others but you certainly don't fool me! You're not meant to be alone! You need somebody besides those dragons to keep you company."

Charlie took one look at his little sisters set earnest face and sighed heavily. She was never going to drop the subject until she was satisfied with the answers, that was just the way Ginny was. But just as he was resigning himself to a long conversation on his lonely love life, or perhaps nonexistent would be a better word, a perfectly black eagle owl came gliding through the open living room window.

Everyone fell silent as the bird alighted on the back of one of the chairs, gold predatory eyes scanning the room with ruthless eyes. It was a truly beautiful owl, one of the highest quality Charlie had ever seen. They were expensive owls, generally only rich pure blood families used them. Most even came with intelligence charms on them, making them much more intelligent than most common owls. Charlie couldn't figure out for the life of him why such a creature would have any business here and by everyone's faces, they didn't either.

"Well, I guess we should see who it's for." Harry finally said, standing closest to the still bird. But as he reached out to take the white envelope from the owl the bird opened its beak and hissed at him, jerking its head as though to bite him. Snatching back his hand Harry glared at the thing. "I guess it's not for me." He said as the bird began to scan the room again.

Charlie thought perhaps the creature was confused by the sheer amount of red hair in the room, and just as the thought struck him the bird locked it's eyes on him. Eyebrows raising Charlie felt a moment of panic when the large bird launched itself at him, but just managed to instinctively lift his arm just in time. The bird landed on his outstretched arm with surprising delicacy, large claws barely felt through his thin shirt. Then it hooted at him gently. Feeling more than a little intimidated but still relieved that the bird had interrupted his conversation with Ginny, Charlie untied the letter from the bird's leg. As soon as it was untied the bird launched itself into the air again, heading straight back out the window before anyone could blink.

Everyone stared after the bird, eyes wide for several moment before they turned in mass to Charlie. "Who's it from Charlie?" Ginny asked, intrigued.

Charlie had already flipped the envelope over and was inspecting the family seal on the back. He recognized the seal at once. It was after all a very well known family, even as disgraced as it was. "It's from the Malfoy's." He muttered, beginning to tear open the envelope.

"Malfoy?" Ron nearly shouted, face already beginning to turn red. "That could be poisoned for all you bloody well know?!"

"Ronald, language!" Molly interrupted with a scolding glare.

"Ron's right, though!" Harry jumped in, glaring at the letter. "That git's never done us any good."

"Really, now, he wouldn't try to kill Charlie!" Hermione put in, rolling her eyes at her best friends. "It's been ages since we've seen him and if he did want revenge than he certainly wouldn't go about it in such an obvious fashion. Malfoy is too much a Slytherin for that. Whatever it is, it must be important, for Malfoy to send Charlie a letter."

Arthur nodded in agreement, eyes wary but not worried. "Hermione's right, best you open it, Charlie."

But Charlie was already ahead of them. Sliding the pristine white letter from the envelope he opened it carefully. Everyone watched as first his eye brows raised and then his face became hard. It was an odd expression for Charlie's face, one not all that common. His lips pressed together into a flat line and his fingers wrinkled the edge of the letter. Then he looked up and his blue eyes were blazing.

"I have to get going." Charlie told them, already turning to the fireplace. His face was grim.

"Wait, what?!" Ginny protested, grabbing a hold of his arm.

"Ginny, not now! This is important, I have to go!" He growled, prying her fingers away. As soon as he was loose he had a handful of powder in one hand and had already thrown it into the fireplace before anyone could say another word. "Malfoy Manor!" He shouted and disappeared.

A long silence followed Charlie's departure, everyone staring after the normally laid back Weasley. Something had obviously been wrong, that much was plainly clear. But what? What could have Charlie leaving for _Malfoy Manor_ of all placing with such a harried expression?

"Well, that was odd." Percy commented to no one in particular, staring at the fireplace with raised brows.

Frowning in irritated anger Ginny bent to pick up the letter from Malfoy that Charlie had dropped in his haste. Surely it would tell them what form of torment had Charlie leaving in such a flurry.

"What does it say?" Ron demanded, stepping closer, face still red as his hair. Hermione placed a placating hand on his arm, watching with a frown as Ginny paled and her brows raised in shock.

"What does it say, Gin?" Harry repeated, concern in his voice as he stepped up to his wife's side.

Ginny finally looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "It's from Narcissa Malfoy." Her voice was just as stunned as her face. "It's a request for Charlie's assistance."

"What the bloody hell would she need Charlie for?" George asked with a frown. Bill nodded in agreement.

The female Weasley blinked up at her family. "Apparently a dragon had eaten Draco and she needs assistance with it's removal from her property."

/0000/00000

Charlie

Charlie wasn't quite sure what he expected when he reached the Malfoy Manor. Perhaps a dragon rampaging blindly through the property. Perhaps a dragon attacking the manor in a rage. Maybe a dragon terrorizing the staff. Maybe even a dragon battling it out with Narcissa Malfoy. Certainly whatever he'd expected hadn't been this.

The Malfoy Matriarch was waiting for him as soon as he stepped through the floo. Although she did look slightly more ruffled than her normal icy calm, she appeared as though she'd suffered no worse than a windy day. Her expression was just as glacial as usual and her clothing impeccable with not a wrinkle in place. The only thing that gave her away was the slightly tousled look of her hair that Charlie wouldn't have noticed on anyone else. That and the almost manic glint in her blue eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, I half expected you not to come, the ministry said you were on holiday." She greeted him politely, not even a hint of disdain on her pale face.

"Dragons are my business, ma'am, whether I'm on holiday or not." Charlie told her with a grim shrug, stepping fully from the fireplace and dusting himself off.

"Yes, so I've heard." She seemed to come back to herself, focusing her eyes on Charlie. "I understand you're the dragon expert in Europe? The person one calls when one needs this sort of help."

"And what sort of help do you need _exactly_, Mrs. Malfoy?" Charlie replied, cutting to the chase. He hadn't heard any crashing or banging to indicate a dragon, not even a roar.

Narcissa seemed to actually hesitate for a moment before she gathered herself. "Perhaps you ought to see the beast yourself, that would be a much better explanation." She murmured, turning and beginning to lead the way from the room.

Charlie was dumb founded as he followed the woman. Whatever he'd expected it hadn't been this. No one reacted this calmly to their son being eaten. But then again he'd never seen a Malfoy in this situation either. He normally dealt with tears and demands. "Why would they eat them?" "Why?" Those were the most common questions Charlie heard and as of yet he hadn't come up with an answer besides, "Because they were there." Which was really no answer at all. He prayed he didn't have to give that answer to Mrs. Malfoy. Whatever was behind that icy mask, he didn't want to see it.


End file.
